Miscellaneous Short Stuff
by M H E Priest
Summary: This is a collection of very short (100-500 words) stories, most inspired by a Stargate list's drabble-word-of-the-week. Little bit of humor, angst, action, whatever.
1. Quitting

**Quitting**

An epilogue to "Stargate the Movie"

O'Neill finished reviewing his report and sighed deeply. The whole mission--stepping through a huge metal ring into something that masqueraded as a pool of water and coming out freezing into a desert millions of miles away, meeting Skaara, battling a glowy-eyed Egyptian god and himself, being saved in a couple ways by a freakin' scientist, for crying out loud--now seemed to be an elaborate, realistic dream.

But it hadn't been a dream.

After signing the report and one other thing, he left the cramped office, papers in hand.

It took only minutes to find West. The general, hands clasped behind his back, stood at the base of the Stargate's ramp. "Ah, Jack," he said as he turned to face the approaching colonel.

"Sir, my report and my resignation," O'Neill said, handing the documents to West. "Which became effective, oh, about five minutes ago." That said, he decked the unsuspecting officer with a left cross. "Next time, you pusillanimous son-of-a-bitch, you do your own dirty work."

West, stunned, stared up at his attacker.

O'Neill about-faced. He brushed past Ferretti and Kawalsky, who had entered the room moments after Jack and had seen everything. Both men quickly buried their smirks.

In the corridor, Jack dug into a pocket for his cigarettes. Three left. He crushed the pack and tossed it into a trashcan.

Because Charlie had wanted him to…

The End


	2. 1970

**1970**

Third day, waiting.

Waiting in the muck he had partially created.

Writing some sort of fiction to his kid brother, parents, grandparents, in his head, about the war and his special part in it.

Expert marksman going after--no, saving--downed USAF pilots.

Sneaking behind enemy lines in a war that had none.

Waiting for the mobile SAM team.

Hearing them now, moving through the razorgrass toward him--death.

Waiting for his ticket out of Vietnam, to the Academy.

Squeezing off three shots, giving three people third eyes.

Seventeen and a sniper.

Better to tell them he was a spook.

The End

for this story, you have to assume: 

--Jack's birthday is in October 1952 (on an electronic ID card); 

--he graduated early (age 16) from HS and joined the AF as soon as he turned 17 in 1969 (this I came up with); 

--one of the ribbons on his dress uniform in first season indicated service in Vietnam; and 

--the degree in his office indicates he graduated from the Academy in 1974  



	3. Frayed

**Frayed**

Thoughts from a scene in "Need"

I don't think I've ever felt this…alive.

I am virtually invincible.

My possibilities are truly infinite.

Imagine that--the four-eyed-dork orphan-boy inviolable.

Damn, here he is again.

Someone more interested in killing and dying than in living. No great loss, though. Not much potential there…

Funny. His appearance finally matches his tatterdemalion mind.

* * *

Ahhh, Daniel, what's happened to you? 

Reminds me of Fitzie. Took the midnight express to Lala-land during a mission. Soul just shredded.

"The man who would be king."

Oh, God, I had to take Fitz down.

Not doing that now, Daniel. I'm getting your raggedy-ass character repaired.

Somehow.

* * *

"Hi, Jack!" 

The End


	4. Backended Compliment

**'Back-ended' Compliment**

"O'Neill, is it an Earth convention to stop in one's tracks and stare unabashedly at the backs of female humans?"

"Well, Teal'c, I'm not _exactly_ staring at their backs. I'm, uh, zeroing in on one specific part."

"And what part would that be, O'Neill?"

"The derriere. You know…tush, rump, seat, tail, bottom, heinie, bum, rear. And it's not exactly _polite_ to actually _ogle_. It's best to be…discreet."

"Then why did you openly stare at the woman who just passed us?"

"Uh, well, she has a particularly…callipygian backside."

"I am unfamiliar with the term 'callipygian'."

"Simple, T. It means 'booty-ful'."

The End


	5. The Path of Four Endings

**The Path of Four Endings**

_In response to the End of Times challenge on stargatedrabbles_

~Path the First~

"It's okay, it's fine, we'll be fine."

A few more words, a snap of a chain, and Daniel's world, crushed beneath a huge cover stone, comes to an end.

~Path the Second~

"Your father's running late, so I've called a cab. We won't be home late. And don't stay up reading that book on Apollo 11 past your bedtime."

A hug, a truck running a red light, and Sam's world, crushed between two doors, comes to an end.

~Path the Third~

Adoring eyes looking up at him, she kisses his cheek while he kisses hers. Though he doesn't know it yet, that is their last kiss.

A gunshot, a cry of "Charlie!", and Jack's world, bleeding out on the carpet of his bedroom, comes to an end.

~Path the Fourth~

"Kill the rest."

Screams of fear, a confident request that is almost an order, and Teal'c's world, smoky from the bodies of the Jaffa he used to command, comes to an end.

~Path of Convergence~

And so the Path of Four Endings crosses into one new world.


	6. The Color Purple

**The Color Purple**

Jack looked at the bruise blooming on Daniel's cheek. "So, friendly natives, you say? Makes me wonder what they'd do if they were teed off," he whispered.

"Like, oh, break my nose like they broke yours? And they _were_, um, cautiously friendly."

Jack tried to sniff his mock disdain for Daniel's half-hearted scolding, but it hurt too damn much. "It's not my fault His-All-High-and-Mightiness Widget has no sense of humor."

"King _Wengin_ is wearing the traditional color of royalty. You insulted him when you said his cape was the same color that a lot of women wear on our planet."

"Nope. Pretty sure the insult was right before that when I told him to get his own life now that Ra is dead. Besides, he was eying Teal'c's tattoo a little too sinisterish . . . ly. Widget was gonna turn on us sooner or later."

Daniel sighed and cast his eyes downward. Speaking when Jack did probably took the king's focus off Teal'c—for a while anyway. "You might be right there, Jack. But you didn't have to put it so . . . bluntly."

"Hank Kissinger I'm not. That's why you're on the team. Besides, I'm right about purple. You ever see any guy things that are purple?"

"Okay, point. But it is the color of royalty and nobility."

Wengin, sitting on his throne several yards in front of the kneeling team, nodded his head at the guard standing behind them.

"Silence!" yelled the guard. Next thing any of SG-1 knew, first Jack felt the harsh, excruciating contact of the pain stick, then Daniel received the second jolt.

"Aw, crap!" Jack finally said with obvious strain in his voice as the pain came under control. "Yeah, ain't nobility with this guy, 'cause he's a royal pain in the bu—"

"Silence!" bellowed the guard and sticked Jack again.

Slowly, Wengin descended from the platform on which his throne rested to stand in front of the panting team leader of SG-1. Taking Jack's chin in his hand, letting his long, pointed fingernails dig into the flesh, he raised Jack's head until he could see the pained face of the human.

"Now, why is the First Prime of Apophis following the orders of a human?" Wengin dug his fingernails deeper, drawing blood. "And what is this about my Lord Ra being dead?"

The End

Note: This was written in response to a stargatedrabbles challenge. There is a very good chance that it will expand to a full story.

©2013


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